Jamie Dornan is stepping into sharper, more provocative territory with THE WORST, a British dark comedy that’s already creating serious industry anticipation ahead of its debut at the European Film Market in Berlin. This isn’t another glossy franchise entry or formulaic thriller—it’s a caustic class satire that positions Dornan alongside Alicia Vikander in what promises to be one of the year’s most viciously entertaining ensemble pieces. For an actor who has spent recent years carefully diversifying his portfolio beyond the shadow of FIFTY SHADES, THE WORST represents exactly the kind of risk that could redefine how audiences see him.

The film follows a single catastrophic night at a French chateau, where Vikander’s Emily Fisher, a wealthy socialite with impeccable taste and questionable judgment, has gathered her closest friends for what should be an enviable escape from reality. Her husband Max plays co-host, and together they’ve curated the kind of gathering that looks flawless on the surface but conceals fractures deep enough to swallow everyone whole. Dornan plays Danny, a talent agent so consumed by his own mythology that he can’t stop name-dropping and self-promoting even as the evening collapses around him. It’s a role that requires precision—Danny is both absurd and recognizable, a walking embodiment of ambition curdled into performance art.

What makes THE WORST particularly compelling for Dornan’s career trajectory is its distance from the romantic leads and tortured antiheroes that have dominated his recent work. Whether he was navigating the psychological complexity of THE TOURIST, anchoring Kenneth Branagh’s BELFAST with quiet emotional gravity, or diving into the true-crime darkness of projects like A SERIAL KILLER’S GUIDE TO LIFE, Dornan has been methodically building a reputation as an actor willing to inhabit uncomfortable spaces. THE WORST pushes that instinct further, asking him to be not just morally ambiguous but outright ridiculous—a character whose flaws aren’t tragic but comic, whose delusions aren’t dangerous but pathetic. It’s the kind of performance that could showcase range he hasn’t been asked to demonstrate on this scale before.

This pivot toward dark comedy and satire also signals something larger about where Dornan’s career is heading. He’s no longer chasing blockbuster validation or trying to prove himself capable of dramatic heft—he’s already done both. Now he’s hunting for projects that challenge assumptions, that let him disappear into characters who aren’t designed to be likable or sympathetic. Danny in THE WORST is a figure of ridicule, but he’s also a mirror held up to an entire class of people who mistake proximity to success for success itself, who confuse networking with intimacy, who believe their own publicity. Dornan has to make that character funny without softening him, has to let the audience laugh at Danny while recognizing pieces of themselves in his desperation.

For Dornan, THE WORST isn’t just another role—it’s a declaration of intent. After years of navigating the aftermath of FIFTY SHADES, of proving he could anchor prestige television and deliver nuanced film work, he’s choosing projects that refuse to play it safe. This is an actor betting on his ability to make people uncomfortable in ways that feel thrilling rather than alienating, to inhabit characters who are both absurd and achingly real. If THE WORST delivers on its promise, it won’t just be a successful dark comedy—it will be the moment Jamie Dornan fully stepped into the next phase of his career, one where he’s no longer defined by what he’s moved past but by what he’s bold enough to chase.